Why am I gravitated towards what I shouldn’t be?
Why am I so consumed with things that should be thrown away, as trash?
Why am I so nice?
Why am I so afraid of somethings, including negative responses?
Why am I running from the very thing, the only thing that can help me?
Why am I constantly in search of something I’ve realistically told myself is impossible.
Why am I trying to make my own version of the “American Dream?”
Why am I allowing my own personal ideals and goals to be somehow affected by those who surround me and their concerns for me?
Why am I writing a poem about nonsense, that not even myself will read after it’s written, at 4:14 AM on the Fourth of July?
Why am I doing this to myself?
Why am I reluctant to do whats right?
Why am I so willing to help people?
Why am I a Theater Major?
Why am I still holding onto this impossible belief that there is someone for everyone out there?
Why am I typing this so quickly?
Why am I reading my previously written lines as I continue to phrase this one?
Why am I so concerned with punctuation and making my words look proper?
Why am I not ended this post sooner?
Why am I still typing…